


Final Hours

by Cresstionmark



Category: Discord Murder Party (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26827840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cresstionmark/pseuds/Cresstionmark
Summary: Junior knows they're coming, so how will he spend his last day?Made for Internet Creative Club 10.4.2020, so written in 45 minutes.
Kudos: 7





	Final Hours

The cacophony of banging and shouting was only a blur on the end of Junior’s perception. It was muffled and sat at the edge of his consciousness. It wasn’t a concern. It wasn’t a surprise. He expected it. He had been waiting on it.

In the hours preceding he had made his plans. He went to his usual spots, and lingered to breathe them in. He went to the deli to see Ron the butcher, who asked if he would have his usual cut of fish. Junior surprised him when he said he wanted to try the large tuna filet that Ron always swore by, and when asked about the occasion Junior just responded that he’d always wanted to.

He then went to the arcade to catch up with the Quarter Crew, a group of misfits who would get together and try their hardest to maintain their high scores. They always allowed Junior to play a long. He hadn’t been in the city for very long, but they had taken him as one of their own, even if he never took the name. He was always a good sport and he always played hard, but today was different. They’d never seen him this carefree, laughing this fervently, joking this openly. After some time and at the end of his quarters, Junior took his leave with a peace sign and well wishes, and continued his walk.

He went to the dog shelter to, of course, see his friends. The staff were always mildly confused as to why he visited so often with no intention of adopting, but they allowed his entrance as he’d always bring a comforting presence to the pups as they waited. He had visited his favourites (so all of them), petting willing heads and tapping curious snouts. He whispered his wishes for their futures into their happy, flopping ears. Hopes for families and forever homes wafted through the air, reaching a few human ears and tickling at the heart with their sincerity. The staff allowed him a few more minutes before admitting they had to close up for the night, and Junior obliged with a thank you.

The street lights flickered as he was on his way home to his small apartment, on loan to him from a gracious employer. It was a bit of a shame to Junior that he wouldn’t be getting to speak to him today, but there were so many hours between the sun's cycles and he was reaching the dusk.

Junior calmly cooked the tuna, as best as he knew how, using only the best seasoning he could afford and with every inch of care he had. It wasn’t harsh, but it was careful and full of thought. As he worked, he played his favourite album, Lauryn Hill’s dreamy voice filling the room and carrying him away one last time. One last moment. Assuredly, this attracted a dinner guest-- a stray cat that Junior had affectionately named Goku, for his ability to get up again and again despite the odds. The critter mewled from the window sill, and scuttled in as it was opened. Junior smiled, seeing the fish before him, and offered the cat the rest of his meal. Surely, someone else would enjoy it. He hoped that Ron could forgive him for giving up such a prime cut.

With that, Junior cleaned any leftover dishes (save for the plate that Goku was graciously lapping) and went upstairs. The reds in the sky shifted to an unending blue, stars twinkling in the moonlight. The man, tired but ultimately fulfilled, grabbed his backpack and hugged it, staring at the clock while he waited. Inside that bag was all of his “essentials.” Things for moving, of course, but he had also refilled it with things that were important to him. Old stamps. Photographs. Tickets to movies. Things that he would like to hold on to, just one last time.

The banging came soon after, but it didn’t startle him. It was just the sounds of the inevitable, creeping up as they did. They were here for him, and he would let them come. The sounds of his reckoning brought him no fear. If anything, finally some solace.

He kept his eyes forward when they suddenly stopped. He had been looking nowhere but the door, and had come to find comfort in his position. To say he had been unaffected wouldn’t be a whole truth, but to say that anything was really reaching him at this point would also pose an issue. He didn’t look away when he saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye. He only looked forward, as best as he could, eyes hazy and unfocused but stony all the same. He felt a weight on the bed, and then, unblinking but drained, broke the silence.

“I never stood a chance, did I?”

She responded, her voice cradling his heart just as Lauryn’s had so many times before.

“That’s the sad thing--you did once.”


End file.
